Beneath the Masks
by Enderchild 080
Summary: Messenger is not alone with his fate. There are more, many more, all whom have experienced similar. This are their lifes, their memories and adventures. Who they used to be and who they are now: This are their stories. „Beneath these masks, we still exist..." (rating may vary, kinda-sequel to Journal)
1. Black, White and Grey

**Hello, my fellow Enderproxies!**

**I have put a lot of effort into the Minecraft universe ****_Journal_**** is set in. For example, you might have wondered who the Hollowed once mentioned are, or why the 'Farlander' is so aggressive, or you just want to know more about the group Messenger and Tracker are part of.**

**Well, expect some questions to be answered! :D **

**Maybe not all, but most.**

**This story will be a collection of short stories about various characters (Including the 'Farlander') that live in this 'verse and are slightly connected to various aspects of the story. For example, I'm planning to write a backstory about how Messenger lost his voice.**

**There will also be a whole load of new characters, since the Hollowed and the *spoiler redacted*, as well as *spoiler redacted* are many.**

**Also, I won't explain anything, things will get clearer with time xD**

**NOW, ONTO THE FIRST STORY.**

* * *

_The Hollowed have destroyed many lives. It lies within their code to capture victims for Them, to kill if they have to...or when they feel like it. But not all Hollowed used to be Soulless, neither all Hollowed were forced to become one. Fate can be cruel, and in some cases it leaves one without options. This is the tale of the Hollowed Despair. The name is truly fitting._

The branches of the spindly trees, of whom at least the half look dead, creak as the wind rushes through them. The man looks up, clutching a simple iron sword in one hand, a torch in the other. He is a father. His daughter had gotten lost a few days ago. The rumors of odd and unholy things going on in this place and the hushed remarks of seeing strange masked people around were his only clue to know where to look for her.

A last sigh, a last look back to the village, then he enters.

Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, he knows that he will not return. The sun sinks below the horizon and the full moon rises up, providing his with barely enough light to see his path. He walks and walks, he is alone for hours, no Mob, passive or aggressive, crosses his path. He had always disliked the Dead Forest with a passion, and now it almost seems as if the trees are annoyed at his presence, threatening to bury him under them every second. But he doesn't go back.

He has to find his daughter.

Nothing will stop him.

The moon rises and rises, it is midnight now.

Still no Mobs around.

He frowns and stops. A feeling of being watched has accompanied him for the past hours and now he is sure of it. Somebody – or something – follows him.

„Come out! I know that you're here! I have to talk to you." He calls out.

Leaves rustle, branches creak, but he gets no answer. Just as he is about to continue, he hears a voice, whispery, yet with a sickening, cheerful undertune.

„_Oh look! So brave, so brave! He wants to talk us! He 'knows' that we're here, but does her know who we are?"_

Another voice, nearly identical to the first. _„No. No, I don't think so, brother, does he?"_

A blur above him and a person jumps down in front of him, merely five meters away, causing dead leaves to swirl up. It is male, clothed in a grey-black hoodie and equally black trousers. He wears a black mask whose mouth and eyes are outlined with white and appear to have a happy expression on them. He carries a big stone sword.

„We should kill him." The first voice. He backs a bit away as the masked man makes a threatening step towards him. He is, however, halted by another one who has jumped down as well. This one wears exactly the same as the first one, but with its colors inverted and the mask possesing a rather sad expression. He clutches a bow in his hand.

„Didn't you listen? He has something to say. " The one clothed in black turns to his companion.

„Negative, White. He proabaly has nothing interesting to tell anyway."

„We should let him talk."

„No we shouldn't."

„Yes we should!"

„Not at all!"

„Affirmative, we should!" The two were head-on-head as of now and seemed to have no intention of stopping and taking care of him.

„Never!"

„Always!"

„No!"

„Yes!"

„No!"

„Ye-" Two gloved hands separate them, courtesy of a third one who had appeared when they weren't watching. He seems like a mix of both, one half of him looking like the black-clothed and the other half like the one whose name appeared to be 'White'.

„Black, White! Stop it already, you little children!" he growls at them. They shrink under his glare.

„Ok Grey.", the answer in perfect unison. He gives them one last glance, then turns to the man who has been standing still since they appeared. Grey can smell the determination coming from him, but not the slightest hint of fear, which is intriguring him.

The man himself had tried to judge the behaviour of his three ambushers. They're identical in growth and build, the only thing differencing them being the clothes and their character.

_Triplets._

Grey spoke up. „Alright. Say what you want and hope for your life that it's interesting enough."

„I want my daughter back." Chuckles from Black and White, Grey seems to smirk.

„Even if we..." - The man has a feeling that with 'we' he didn't only mean his brothers and himself - „Even if we have encountered her, your daughter would be gone. What is more possible, however, is that a Mob got her." He spoke about the possibility of his daughter being mulitated by the undead as causal as one would talk about the weather.

„No." He speaks firmly. "I know that she is with you. Give her back."

„That won't be possible, Outsider." Grey makes a sudden, almost birdlike movement with his head, the other two silblings begin to close in. The more aggressive Black raises his sword.

„Then let me see her one last time." The deadly blade stops less than an inch away from his forehead. The man doesn't even twitch. With a flick of his hand the leader of the trio calls for a small group discussion. He watches them sticking their heads together. Their Tongue appeared to have a strange dialect when they were speaking with each other, odd slang words mixed with a foreign language that seemed to fit somewhere in Creeper language, but way sharper, with more edges. White's head perks up as he made a step towards them, staring at him and for a second he caught a glimpse of the eyes behind the mask. Empty and dead, sending shivers down his spine.

„Follow us if you can." With these words the triplets simuntaneously climb up three trees and begin to jump over the branches. The man begins to run, desparate to keep up with them. They're fast.

It is unknown to him how long he runs. The forest is endless, the night seems to last forever.

And suddenly...

They're gone.

A dead end, trees, a mountainside. His keen eyes spot a hole in it, well hidden behind bushes. Their twigs claw themselves into his clothes, almost as if trying to prevent him from entering. He doesn't take notice of it, holding his arms in front of his face he breaks through them. White, Black and Grey are on the other side, waiting for him. While Grey puts himself on the lead, White and Black flank him, guiding him down though the dark tunnel, the path is only occasionally illuminated by torches. They're alone at first, but the deeper they get, the more movement seems around them. It isn't long until he can make out masked shadows and hushed whispers at the edge of his senses. He notices a man with a silver-red mask sitting on a stone, playing a small melody on a chamat. He stops as Grey walks towards him. A few words in their foreign dialect later the guy plays an especially deep tune that resonated throughout the cave network. More torches are lit and postitioned in fixtures. In the resulting light he sees even more of the masked people, way more than he expected, the amount of men and women seems pretty equal. Hoods, jackets, dresses, camouflage, stripes, dots and other patterns, each mask unique. Eyes, all empty, all dead, all staring at– no, staring _through_ him. The triplets have vanished somewhere in the crowd, but he spots White whispering something to another person. With a single gesture said person silences the murmurs and slowly walks towards him until they both are in the middle of the human circle.

The man is tall and well build, wearing a black robe with purple stripes and a yellow clip in front of his chest, the mask is white with black eyes and mouth, a sadistic smiling expression painted upon it.

„So you want to see your daughter." His voice is scratchy and not as deep-pitched as one would expect, with a hissing attitude. The man nods. The smile seems to widen slightly, he turns his head to the side and calls out: „AmberLie. Come here."

A masked person separates itself from the crowd, movement lacking any sort of motivation. It strucks out next to the man who seemed to be this strange guild's leaders, it only reaches his shoulder height. She - for a she the person was – wears a hoodie with a camouflage pattern in gold, yellow and amber, the trousers have the same design with brown colors. Her gloves are silver as is her mask. The eye holes are surrounded by black linings.

„Put your mask down." AmberLie's head jerks to her leader, but she obeys, placing both hands on her mask and carefully pulls it off her head. His breath catches in his throat. A youthful face with pale skin, framed by short brown hair. A small scar, a tiny white line at her cheek. Once blue eyes, now an unhealty monochrome, stare at him. He can't stop himself, he makes a few steps towards her, tears welling up in his eyes. She stares at him without recognization. He slowly stretches a hand towards her, but stops as she twitches and backs away. The leader blocks his vision with his body.

„AmberLie is one of us. Your daughter is not here."

The tears flow freely now, he is unable to stop them. The man nods, he understands. He feels the other masked ones closing in, ready to tear him apart like a crowd of hungry wolves. He stares at the leader, fearless. „I'm not going to leave her." He cocks his head in curiosity.

„You know that there is only one way..."

„She is all I have."

The eyes narrow with glee, he raises his hand and winks two others closer.

„Seer, you know what to do. Strings... " He folds his hands together, a smirk plays on his lips. „Go to Ice Eyes and tell it that it has a volunteer."

* * *

**BA-DUM. *whacks the story in your face***

**There you go! As told, a whole load of new characters. Geez, I wonder who that Ice Eyes is.**

**_You already know that._**

**Reader, Daiteki. She's my Writers Block. Daiteki, Reader.**

_**Y'know, you should really go and read something better. There's plenty of stories around that aren't as crappy.**_

**Shut up.**

_**No.**_

**Whatever. **

**R&R, MY FELLOW ENDERPROXIES!**

**PEACE AND BAI!**


	2. Feather

**Hello, my fellow Enderproxies!**

**Short story is short, I lacked inspiration, kind of. It was done on a whim in the morning, 'cause I need something to occupy my mind and not think about...bad stuff.**

**I don't like this. :I**

**But anyways, there you go.**

**More questions answered.**

**Disclaimer: Roses are red, Lapis is blue, Mojang, Notch and Herobrine own MC, not I or you. :P**

* * *

„_Feather? FEATHER! Where is Feather?"_

_„__What's going on?"_

_„__We need a medic, quick!"_

_„__Oh my god..."_

_„__Is that..."_

_„__Get Feather!"_

_„__But she's off to search plants!"_

_„__The others?"_

_„__Away as well."_

_„__Damnit, he'll bleed to death!"_

_„__Who did this?"_

_„__Oh no..."_

Feather heard the voices before she saw the base. They were filled to the brim with fear, concern and urgency. Ripping a last bunch of jagged leaves out on the way, she begins to run back.

The current guard raises his staff as he notices her, but then waves her closer.

„Feather! Thank Notch you're finally here!"

„Nightlight! What happened?!" The masked man points in the middle of the base where a large crowd had gathered.

„I dunno, but your help is needed there!"

Feather nods at him and rushes towards the crowd, trying to get through the other Soulless, but they were too close together.

„HEY!" She yells, frowning as nobody hears her. „You called for me, now let me through, you useless bunch!"

Mockingjay, the closest one to her turns around, along with a few others, eyes widening upon seeing her. Only then he obeys her command, stepping back and simultaneously calling out:

„Folks, make place, Feather's here!"

Now, finally, the others hear her as well and quickly step back. Grumbling to herself, she walks through the path of bodies towards the person lying on the ground.

It is a man, clothes stained red, turquoise eyes wide and glassy with pain.

He makes movements as though he was choking on something.

Feather pushes the two Soulless sitting next to him away and kneels down, trying to analyze where he is injured.

„Dissonance, come over and help me turning him around, he's choking on his own blood!" With united strength the two manage to turn him around, causing a stream of blood coming from his mouth.

Way too much blood.

The man collapses in her arms, coughing and spitting out more red fluid between raspy, quick breaths.

The small medic nods in satisfaction.

„Get him over to the grotto and make sure he won't suffocate, I'll be right back!"

With these words she runs into the grotto herself, searching for the makeshift brewing stand in the back of the small cave, hoping desperately that it would be done with the potion. Taking the small glass from under it she notices that it's only half full.

„Doesn't matter." she mumbles to herself. He needed help now, not two days later. Picking up another bottle filled with water, she runs back to Dissonance and Heat, hissing in frustration as she notices a crowd gathering again.

„Away!" She shouts, chasing them off. „Away, you lot!"

Sitting down next to the injured Soulless, she places the potion next to her and tries to get him to a more upright position with her two temporary helpers.

„Alright, dears." she mumbles to him. „Listen, you must drink this now, we have to get the blood off your throat, okay? You understand?" He nods weakly, too occupied with coughing to answer properly. He barely saw her, eyes fixed on a point somewhere in the air. Feather opens the water bottle and places it on his lips, forcing the fluid down, then letting him drink the potion. The medic smiles slightly beneath her own mask as she notices him breathing at least slightly more clearly now. The danger was banned, at least for now.

Ordering Heat to move him on the nearby blankets and take his hoodie off, she walks back inside and starts mixing a paste with her recently collected ingredients.

As the medic is done, she comes back and begins to smear it on the injuries around his neck and chest after cleaning them. It would prevent an infection.

She turns around as she hears footsteps, taking a quick look at the visitor, then focusing on her patient again.

„Will he survive?" a smooth, melodic voice asks.

„Probably. You'll see." she answers. Tracker steps next to her, kneeing down on one leg.

„Can he answer me? I need to know what happened and Heat didn't exactly see it. She only says they were attacked by a Farlander, which smacked him on a tree and he only survived because he cut its face, making it drop him."

Feather pauses, then shrugs.

„But only a few questions, he needs rest." Her leader nods.

„Thank you, Feather."

He turns his attention to the man.

„Okay...Messenger, if it's not too much effort, can you recall what happened?"

Messenger looks at him weakly and moves his lips, but no sound coming from them.

Eyes widening, he places a hand on his throat and looks at his friends in panic.

* * *

**One and a half pages...meh.**

**Hey, I have an idea! How about YOU tell me what the next story should be about? That would be nice! :)**

**R&R, MY FELLOW ENDEPROXIES!**

**PEACE AND BAI!**


	3. Ice Eyes

**Hello, my fellow Enderproxies.**

**There would be an exclamation mark, but I don't feel like it. I'm still not completely well, but at least a bit better. *needs to read creepypastas to calm down properly***

**Honestly, it seems like I'm completely useless and unproductive when in a good mood. :I**

**Also dreamt weird stuff featuring Slenderman, Randomness and DeviantArt for the past few nights. I have to stop listening to creepypasta music before going to sleep.**

**Really.**

**Btw, sorry for not adding the narrative part last chaptr, I wasn't really sure what to add and I will surely rewrite it sooner or later.**

**Ado.**

**Ado.**

**Ado.**

**And now, without further ado, onto the story!**

* * *

_Ice Eyes is a mystery to us. Only the Farlanders know its true name and the Hollowed would never spit out any fact about its appearance, merely repeating the nick they gave this creature._

_Ice Eyes._

_Ice Eyes took our souls._

_Ice Eyes is the one you search for._

_Ice Eyes will capture you all._

_Soon you will be a part of us._

_One purpose._

_One goal._

_To serve._

…

_It is hard to see through the wrecked remains of a Hollowed's mind, for the things they know have become oblivious to them._

Stealth rushes at high speed through the tunnels, his light footsteps echoing through the place and the black robe rimmed with purple fluttering behind him. He could barely see where he was going, but it was not as if that was neccessary. He knew this place as good as his own bow.

Closer and closer towards the deathly cold, sterile presence located behind the iron doors at the end of the tunnel.

Apruptly he skitters to a halt and, using the momentum, knocks on the doors with the wrist of his hand. The Hollowed steps back and waits for the response.

A moment of silence.

The doors open, the aggressively white light behind them blinding the human for a second, illuminating a tall figure, then they close again.

The outline of the creature, which is merely one block taller than him, is blurred to him due to his night vision being gone.

But there's one detail that he could see clearly and that is a pair of ice colored glowing eyes looming down on him.

Stealth kneels down on front of it.

„_I've been awaiting you, Stealth. What news do you bring me?" _The voice sounds surprisingly young, but it has an almost hissing, sharp foreign accent to it, constantly emphasing the wrong syllable and occasionally pausing at the wrong times. It would make anyone's ears hurt, at least those who weren't used to it.

„It isn't going well, master. The surrounding cities are waging their own wars against each other, large troops stumble through the forest like blinded cattle, disabling us to launch a proper attack." He pauses, keeping his gaze to the ground.

„...On they other hand, they won't be able to attack us as well."

The owner of the cold eyes nods slowly, scraping its claws against each other, creating a chilling, unpleasent metallic noise.

„_Have you managed to locate their base at least?"_

„I'm afraid not, master. Whenever it seems like we got them, we only find an empy place. They're switching places as fast as a miner replaces his stone pick, trying to keep their advantage of being in their own territory."

„_Sly little humans..." _Shivers run down the Hollowed's spine. There was a slight, almost undetectable undertune in the voice, a frosty one indicating that his master wasn't pleased.

„I'm bringing good news, though. We've managed to capture a small amount of them and whenever they switch, we put up scouts in the place, so they won't have a chance to sneak around undetected. We're slowly cornering them."

Silence lasts upon his shoulders like a heavy blanket, the scratching noise had stopped and Stealth found his hands trembling. Curling them into fists, he tries to short the unwanted reaction out. As the voice speaks up again, it is dripping with faux friendlyness.

„_Tell me, Stealth...How many Soulless do you think are there?"_

„A little less than one hundred as of now, master. It is nothing compared to our numbers, though. We're at least four times their size." The scraping noise continues for a little while, then Ice Eyes lifts its hand with the three claws into the light, the middle claw shining in like a scalpell, admiring the reflection while simuntaneously keeping an eye on Stealth.

„_I guess you know better than anyone else what happens if somebody lies to me, no?"_ A wrenching feeling rises in his gut, but he tries his best to keep it down.

„Master...are you questioning my loyality?"

„_Perhaps, Stealth, perhaps..."_

„Master, you know that I would never do such a thing as allying with the enemy." he tries to defend himself. Ice Eyes lowers the hand and places the sharp claw under his chin, forcing him to look up.

„_But wouldn't that rise the question who exactly you see as your enemy?"_

„The Soulless are, of c-" The words are cut apruptly off as its hand closes around his neck, cutting his skin and lifting him up slightly.

„_Then why do Soulless keep vanishing from the prison cells? Hm?!"_

For a few seconds only his strained breath was heard while his brain tried to comprehend the words, the lack of air hindering him.

„_Haaa...whaaaaa-_...what are you – c_hhrrr _– talking about, _maaaaaa_ster?" he managed to croak out.

„_You understood me. My...subjects are vanishing almost frequently and someone drags them out while they're still in a comateuse state. Which means: There is a leak amongst your forces. And I ask you, Stealth – pray for your life that I believe you – do you know anything about this?" _Ice Eyes lets go of him and he slumps to the ground, pressing a glove against the bleeding wound at his neck.

„A...a traitor?...But...isn't this impossible?"

„_There are exceptions. Nothing is hundred percent fool-proof."_ The man stares for a few seconds at the dark red liquid on his hand, then continues trying to stop the flow.

„I...don't know, master...I wasn't aware of this, but it explains how they can keep their numbers steady while ours are slowly decreasing...forgive me, I will immediatly try to find the traitor." His master bends back to its full height and folds its hands together with a paper-like sound.

„_I want you to put up additional guards at the prison cells. I will ask a few Farlanders to aid your Hollowed to make up for they missing strength in case it is neccessary."_ A claw rests on his forehead.

„_Find the leak or else...I shall take care of it." _

Stealth gulped, knowing its methods.

„Y-yes, master."

„_Very well."_ The creature turns back to the door and opens it, blinding the Hollowed a second time.

„_Dismissed, Hollwed Stealth."_

He nods and, once the door closed, stands up and turns around, walking the way back. A scream is audible from behind him, but he doesn't pay attention to it. The wound at his neck is already gone.

A traitor...but who and how?

The leader of the Hollowed is so deep in thought that he almost walks into the short, surprisingly well-dressed man coming towards him. Head jerking up, he sees round black eyes and a large toothy grin painted on a white mask, framed by an untameable shock of curly black hair.

„Strings! What are you doing here?"

„Was about to go to the left wing, there's a collapsed tunnel. Doesn't matter now, though. You don't look good, what did Ice Eyes say?"

Stealth went quiet, pondering wether to tell him or not.

„C'mon, Stealth, you can trust me, y'know?" The leader lifts a finger to his lips, as if to tell him to be quiet.

„Don't tell anyone, but it seems like we have a traitor in our midst."

Strings goes stiff and probably pale as well, but that went unoticed.

„A...a traitor?...H-how...d-do you know who?..."

He shook his head.

„Not yet, but I promise you, I will find the traitor. That I swear by my loyality to the Farlanders." Stealth sighs.

„How do you feel after Rêves is gone, Strings? I hope the loss of your brother wasn't too much?"

He doesdn't ask for altruistic reasons and Strings knows that. He simply needed everyone in perfect shape and the slightest disruption could be critical.

„It...it is alright, Stealth, I can take it." He answers, heart pounding in his chest.

„You sure? I need you fully functioning, if you need a time out..."

„I am alright." He replies firmly. His leader nods and leaves, thoughts quickly returning to work on the solution of the current problems. The short Hollowed looks after him, nervously pulling on one of the two strands of hair that dangle in front of his eyes and continues jogging to his destination after a few seconds.

* * *

***The Greatest Show Unearthed starts playing***

**Well, well, that's it, m'dears!**

**In case you don't remember, Strings has already been mentioned once, in the first chaptr. And then he became a full-fledged character.**

_It's serial escalation._

**Uh-hu. **

_Hey. Can I crack a joke?_

**Why not.**

_How many Farlanders does it take to screw in a lightbulb?_

**How many?**

_None, they're too lazy and send their Hollowed!_

**An applause for Daiteki, m'dear readers!**

_Thank you fans, thanks a lot! *bows*_

**Now, after this piece of sufficient weirdness, I'd like to inform that the option to bring up your own idea for a one-shot is still there. Just ask me something specific or tell me that you want more information abot xy's backstory or just about character xy and as long as they're not walking spoilers, such as F-...I mean Ice Eyes, I will gladly try and write.**

**Adding to this, I give a lil' shout-out to AxleMC131 and his stories Base of Operations and White-eyed Nightmares. They're nice, check 'em out! I gave Strings to him as an OC for the former, I'll try and write his backstory soon. Don't worry about spoilers, though he didn't appear yet, so at the moment his secret is safe. As long as you...y'know, don't look into the reviews. ;)**

**...**

**You're checking the reviews of BoO, aren't you?**

**Last, but not least, who's your favorite character so far? Can't wait for your answer! :D**

**R&R, MY FELLOW ENDERPROXIES!**

**PEACE AND BAI!**


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